


Fairytales

by LaureLey



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Mythology, Story within a Story, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaureLey/pseuds/LaureLey
Summary: Part of my D&D lore, origin mythologies of the rainbow. Very vague mentions of characters in general.Just a storyteller telling a story.





	Fairytales

**Author's Note:**

> Elsha's character was written by one of my D&D players, and belongs to them.

Her eagerness brought a smile up to her companion's lips; dark eyes bright with the warmth that she had inspired into him, and Mithrim straightened once again into his chair. “My, how did it go?” her grandfather wondered aloud, unweaving his hands to reach back to the cup he had so woefully left aside. He traced the rim lightly, his thoughts wavering, before another sip was taken from his still-filled cup, and with it swallowed, he began his tale.

“In another age, long ago, before dawn had broken over the world, a creature was born. It was a pitiful thing; locked away so deep that only darkness knew it by name, and shadows played across its scaly hide. It lived and grew, and lived, and grew, imprisoned in a space far too small for itself. For, you see, it knew nothing else, and did not think it ought to need more.” A pause interrupted him, and he blew steam away from the still-hot tea before drinking from the dainty cup.

“In the darkness, it could hear things-- things it could not see. The scratch of quill on paper; the echoes of footsteps in its ears. Still it grew, and grew, and grew, until it grew quite tired of growing, and instead, shrunk to just the size of a pea. And that's when the world shattered. It cracked like an eggshell, and the darkness scattered, split and the shadows fled. And behind was left the creature, small and blind and brightness, for once, greeted it. You see; in the end, it was light that favoured this creature dearly, and light still that embraced it when it was born. For it was a birth, no matter how unconventional; and with it, that little creature came to life.”

Another break in his story allowed him to mull over the events as they happened, tilting his head to the side and rolling the ideas about in his head until a sip soothed his parched throat. “Small as a pea, the creature fled. It swooped and slithered away, chasing the light, chasing the brightness until it grew dark and night came; and there it rested, curled around the roots of trees. This too was familiar to it, and it settled, drowsy eyes shutting away the world, and the creature grew again. It grew, and grew, and grew; and when morning light came, it was quite so huge that the sun greeted it before it greeted the birds.”

Elsha poured herself another cup of tea, and held it to her closely, staring at her grandfather in excitement. "A creature birthed in darkness... only to truly come alive in the light." She murmured to herself.

Mithrim's smile reflected her own; seeing where her thoughts had grown in the curve of her lips and the way both her hands had curved about the dainty cup. He didn't let it stop him, however, and the story fell anew from his lips. “Light glittered across its scales and scattered into its feathers, like children playing with flowing water. It felt warm and pleasant, and happy, and for the first time, the creature was content to exist, and curious to see more. It started with a village, but it frightened the villagers so much, that they threw spells and swords at it, chasing it until it grew quite small again, hiding, hidden, and then nothing more. It tried the forest next, but the animals would run when it came, terrified and scattering, freezing when it did so much as glance at them. It wished for peace, yet everywhere it went, only horror remained.”

"Darkness clutched at it," his voice echoed; a soothing steadiness to it that lulled even the sharpest mind to simply listen, and enjoy the story her grandfather was weaving. "Alone, and lost, the creature reached for its embrace, slithering under roots and in the tight confines, settling like a corpse before it had truly died, watching the days turn to night, and brightness to shadows. In its heart, blackness seeped, a feeling it did not know the name of, that curled and crushed its heart, and the creature settled there, to watch the day pass by."

"And that's where it was found." A sip interrupted him; just a moment and a smile, and then he went on.

"It was a young man who found it-- skin like ashes, bruised and battered. We've long forgotten his name, dear heart-- but there is one thing that we know. We know he loved, with all of his soul, and with the brightness of the stars, because that young man found a creature that could hurt, that had been hurt-- looked at it... and smiled. He smiled and spoke as though the creature could understand him, words that might seem little and might seem silly, but he spoke and gently eased forwards, he spoke and he carefully reached for it-- and the creature responded."

"It did not know language as we know it-- its tongue was thin and split, and it could not find a way to touch it to both teeth and snap a sound through as we would. But it responded in its own way; it learned to touch the heart with its own; it learned to brush spirits against another's. And it learned enough to speak, to learn its companion's language. It took many days, and many weeks, and the young man could not stay with it at all times-- often sneaking about, his skin dark, his hair light, and when his companion asked he would simply say he'd been clumsy. Far too clumsy."

"It grew content, once again. Happy and eager. It learned to look forwards to something, and the price of patience, and its companion returned, time and time again, and showed many things to the creature. With it wrapped around an arm, he visited the villages, where people didn't attack. He taught the creature to swim until it huffed and puffed and grew as large as the lake. Monsters and beasts sniffed about if the creature stayed small, stayed quiet and watched, its companion tucked in the coils of its scales as deer darted in the fields before them. Bright sunlight filled their days, an eager happiness that made it reach out for more, and more, and more. And one day, she learned it."

This, he knew, would rivet Elsha's attention; an odd mixture that she would find fascinating, and he was eager to encourage her, waving his hands and patting his limbs as he portrayed the creature doing the same. "Legs were strange, and arms even stranger. Hair tickled and teeth couldn't fold backwards. She'd tried her new form and disliked it, tried a new one, and couldn't rise up. She tried once more, and this, she kept; satisfied at last. In her half-elven form, she waited for her companion, folding hands that she could not phantom and her wings rustling behind her.”

“There is little that needs to be said for their days onward. Peace settled between them, the lazy days of summer turning to fall, and then winter; cycles unbroken as they shared in their happiness. Blissful, they sowed their joys and sorrow, and as mated pairs are bound to, preened and rejoiced when learning of their first child to come.”

“But.” He paused, a curtain falling over the happy tale. “Where there is light, the shadows follow-- and their bliss, so bright an beautiful, soon turned to an agony, dark and rotten.”

“Her mate failed to return one day. Often, he left her, though he never failed to return in the end-- but this worried her as the child grew full in her belly, rounding it like the moon. Soon they would be born-- what if the father was not there? But she could not search for him as she was now-- swollen, she could not slither so well along the paths-- forced to remain on tiptoes for the sake of the life she nurtured. She hadn't left their dwelling in so long-- hadn't shifted again when she held such happiness and so close to herself; should she risk it?”

“Anxiety drove her wild, fear festered inside her heart until she could bear it no longer, and with the night clawing inky fingers across the sky, she shifted, cradling her child deep between her ribs so that no harm could come to it. She could not shrink, for fear of crushing them in her new form, and she was careful as she moved, slithering through her woodland home until she could find him, following the faint scents he had left behind.”

“It was a house she found-- but the walls were made of stone. It was a home, but the sprawling monster was even bigger than herself. Flicking her tongue, she waited at its gates, hesitant to go further; fearing what she could not see from it; what left a coldness so bitter that she could taste it in the air. Blood had tainted the ground. Crows picked at the flesh left behind. What happiness she had gathered, too soon, had been ripped away from her hands.”

“In the birthplace of monsters, she screamed; her agony ripped through the sky. Coiled about his body, half charred by fire, half devoured by carrion birds, she wailed for the life lost, for the end of days that could never be gained again. She had no hands to take him down from his perch, no arms to bring him to the ground, and so she stayed, and doomed herself to far worse.” He breathed once, a sigh escaping him slowly as his eyes reflected nothing but the tea before him; half musing himself about what could have been to this poor, pitiful creature.

“It would have been a kinder story, if she ran.” A sip. Silence. “The underworld, with its dead walking about has no such cruel being as what found her; hell could not have spawned such a creature that walked from the mansion's infernal gates, each step reaping the world of its light and tainting it with shadows as slick and baleful as oil. Entrapped into a spider's web, she failed to save herself.” He breathed. “She failed to save her child.”

“He was ripped from her womb as she screamed, a delicate toddler that would never be held in her arms, wrenched from her body in a blood-stained baptism and plundered away. The monster held her body in chains, thrashing in her grief but there was nothing more she could do but scream-- nothing more she could do but watch.”

“Ravaged, broken and bleeding, the demon hurled her body up into the sky-- pinned her unfurled wings with countless arrows into the sky, so that when they pass overhead, we can see them gleaming in the darkness. It is her blood that nourishes our dawn and-- very rarely... when the sun hits it just right-- we can see her body, arching over our skies--” at this, her grandfather stretched an arm up over his head tracing a curve with two fingers, as he pictured it. His voice lowered reverently, emotion dancing into each precious word as he spoke. “-- When light glitters across her scales, and scatters into her feathers, like children playing with flowing water.”


End file.
